Another Time and Place
by Monte-chan
Summary: A quick look at the myriad of infinite Earths that answer the big question, "What if?" Each chapter features a different universe far different from that of our favorite TV show... or is it? For more, see "The Titans of Tomorrow."
1. Universe 1

Author's Note: _Thought __or __Emphasis_; **Flashback**; _**Thought **__**or **__**Emphasis **__**in **__**Flashback**_

I don't own _Teen __Titans_. If I did, who knows? Maybe ideas like these would become comic book one-shots?

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><p><strong>Robin.<strong>

**Raven.**

**Starfire.**

**Cyborg.**

**Beast Boy.**

**We are all familiar with those commendable crime-fighters, the teenage heroes who smacked down Slade, trounced Trigon, and beat the Brotherhood of Evil. We know their looks, their lives, even their secret identities. We see their world and happily accept it; for some fans, it is the first fantasy world they ever knew.**

**But what of other worlds?**

**What of a world in which one decision changed the entire world's fate?**

**What if Robin began to relish his apprenticeship under Slade? What if Beast Boy saved the Doom Patrol before joining the Titans?**

**What if the Titans were born in a different way altogether?**

**Let us take ourselves to see the lives of our favorite characters...**

**...in another time and place...**

**Teen ****Titans: ****Another**** Time and Place**

Universe 1

The Kingdom of the Leap was a grand one. For generations, the royal family presided with a just hand in a castle of five towers each reaching skyward with pride. Trading boomed thanks to harbors on the western shore, and all directions bore protection of stone walls and skilled soldiers, loyal to the crown.

Yet one group of defenders stood above the rest. For them, a great feast commenced. In the banquet hall, barrels of wine and mead complemented the assortment of succulent meats, fruits and vegetables fresh from the royal gardens, and delicate sweet pastries made by the most adept bakers in the castle. Tapestries of legends and history both ancient and not so long ago graced the walls, but wine spilled by a few foolish drunks threatened to defile their beauty.

Speaking of drunks, one knocked into a man at the table, where he felt a single hand shove him off his feet with the words, "Mind your step, fool!"

"What is it to you, you giant—" The "fool" sobered up quite quickly once he saw who he affronted. A burly dark-skinned man frowned down upon a fellow royal guardsman who dared knock the ham out of his hands. Fighting threats against his homeland was hard at times, but being able to feast on the bounty that earth provided made the troubles worth it.

And the meat-lover indeed endured past troubles, illustrated by the scars littering his body. A veteran to battle, one old clash even cost him an arm, which he replaced with a massive metallic limb. Perhaps due to vanity or paranoia, he wore his shining armor nearly all of the time in public, spreading rumors among the rabble that he was really a metal man animated by sorcery.

"I-I-I apologize, Sir Victor."

"I greatly advise that you should." Ebony globes peered into frightened blues. "Were we not brothers in arms, I would readily strike your head flat!" He accented this with a pound of his metal hand meeting its partner of flesh.

"Hey, hey! No need for violence here, friends." An emerald-eyed lad, skin and hair the same hue, quickly stepped amidst the warriors. "Our victory against Jonathan the Rancid and his wicked hellhound calls for not war, but celebration!" He turned to the fellow festive crowd with a grin. "AM I RIGHT, MEN?" With a raise of his goblet, everyone in the overall group of twenty raised their cups with a yell...

..._Almost_ everyone.

"Lady Raven, surely it will not wound you to cheer with us?" Unlike the exuberant young man who managed to acquire a seat beside hers and drank mead, the young woman kept silent and sipped tea traded in from the east. Another contrast was the pair's clothing: his loose purple tunic and black pants frayed at the bottom of each leg, her indigo robes accented by a mystic brooch, marking her as a sorceress.

Finishing a bit of roast pheasant, she replied blandly, "Sadly, I do not feel the urge, Sir Garfield. In fact, I fear that this feast"—_while __delicious,_ she inwardly admitted—"will be cut short."

The boy understood from whence her pessimistic view came. After her home, a magical realm known as Azarath, was destroyed by the dread demon Trigon, she lost much hope of finding a truly safe place to call home, especially in a world where might and magic were two of the strongest forces to determine one's fate.

The latter force determined the fate of Garfield, who, after stumbling upon a wizard's ritual to bring forth a chimera to protect his homeland, almost became cursed to become it. What saved the boy was a protection charm passed down by his deceased parents; turning the affliction into a strength, the combined magic allowed him to take the forms of animals both known and yet to be discovered.

"But Lady Raven, we must keep our spirits high! For the sake of tomorrow!" A tall, red-orange haired woman beamed across the table to her near-opposite. "There will someday come a time when we will lay down our blades, instead clasping the hands of our brethren in peace."

Her smile faltered with one fact—"That time is not this hour..."

—only to return in full force. "...But until that blessed morrow, we fight, AND REJOICE THE GOOD TIMES OF TODAY!" Another round of cheers resounded in the hall.

Despite the initial derision of a girl joining the royal guard, the optimistic foreigner's attitude brought a spark of life back into the men who grew weary from battle. It also helped that her inhuman strength was unmatched by any one of her comrades, only Sir Victor coming close. Some guessed that her power was simply a product of her birthplace, a place about which very few of this kingdom knew.

Unlike Raven, this woman's outlook on life grew brighter after a life-changing turn of events: Betrayed by her sister in a deal with the Gordanian marauders to spare her own life, the young woman would have been their trophy—and worse—were it not for a then-inexperienced and wandering knight's noble act to sneak her out of the camp.

That night, the amateur unknowingly saved the lost heir to the Tamaranean throne.

Said knight aligned with his teammate and, according to rumors, lover. "I must agree with Starfire, Raven. Even my old master, serious as he was, reminded me of the importance of taking reprieve." The former squire of the legendary Dark Knight (secretly Lord Bruce of the house of Wayne) sat calmly in a red tunic and green pants that, while seeming short and restrictive, never limited his smooth movement. Even when taking upon armor, he could skillfully maneuver the battlefield like the acrobats who entertained King Glen on his birthday.

"And furthermore, you need not fear, milady..." Garfield deftly slipped her hand in his, slyly grinning at the enchantress. "...For I am here to protect you." He slowly lifted her pale hand towards his lips...

...only to bitterly taste her rebuff, as she removed herself from his grasp. "Will it resemble how I protected your bear's fur from becoming singed this morn?"

Stumbling from the sting, he pathetically brushed it off. "That was a simple misstep of mine, I assure you."

"Like the time you were bound by that crazed horseman for being a 'demon changeling' and almost dragged out of the village?"

"I escaped the trap before we reached the gates, did I not?"

Victor, finishing his third plate of the table's offerings, remembered, "What of when you decided to become a falcon to timely reach morning training, but neglected to remember the archery tournament at dawn?"

"I am certain that they had terrible aim despite my 'absurd interruption'!" Garfield pouted in recollection of the insult. "Hmph, 'absurd' indeed. That judge was a hateful windbag!"

As all laughed at the lad's misadventures (the sorceress stifling a bemused smirk), the mild disturbance Raven felt that night began to pervade, such that she struck down the mood with her next words:

"But you forget, Sir Richard... When have my premonitions ever been wrong?"

"You indeed speak truth, Lady Raven." The last time the guard ignored her, they lost three men to a crimson-haired wolf-creature in one night before finally slaying the beast. "Perhaps we should end this—"

Inhuman cries reached the heroes' ears, silencing the entire hall. They sounded like people in pain... yet something dark lilted behind the noise.

One random soldier asked the unspoken: "What the hell was that?"

"Sir Richard! Sir Richard!" A dark-haired boy of around ten years old burst through the doors, his tattered clothing and worn shoes smudged by dirt collected in his run. Also collected were scrapes on his hands, the result of a few falls on the way. The message he would bring, however, was too urgent for him to stop and address something so minor.

"What is it, Timothy?" Richard met him less than a year ago; he was a bit mischievous, but the knight saw his potential. Perhaps, like himself, he could become a squire of a legend one day...

"He... he's here!" Tim's body quaked from fear and lack of breath as he struggled to speak his name.

"Who?" The royal guard's leader shook the boy, who finally snapped into focus.

"The Slayer!"

"_Slade.__"_ The guard faced him before. Very few knew of his name (only survivors who truly impressed him had that honor) and even fewer his true face, masked by one half bronze and the other some unknown dark metal. Some called him a soul vanquished by a former king that pulled itself back from the devil's inferno. Others thought him a secret heir ousted from the throne. Whatever the reason, the terror known as the Slayer seemed to hold one goal: to crush the Kingdom of the Leap, and anyone in his way, into dust.

His attempts, while few compared to other villains, were potentially devastating. From letting loose a slime creature on the land, to trying to coax Robin to his side via a dangerous illness put on his fellow warriors, the Slayer made to drag the kingdom ever closer to the brink of destruction.

Jade orbs hit the floor, as did as their possessor's mood. "This is not good."

A dark skinned hand dropped a leg of lamb. "I believe I have lost my appetite."

A pallid face enshrouded let out a sigh. "I knew it."

Others expressed their distaste: "We lost half of our men to that beast last time!"

"Lady Raven is never wrong... I pray she has not seen our end..."

"Of course she has, dunce! Don't you see? We are all damned!"

"SILENCE!" The spiky-haired leader slammed his fist onto the table. Despite his small frame, his commanding voice always managed to take up a room. "Are we not heroes? Defenders? We each made an oath to be so. Yet now, when this menace comes to harm our land, you cower like children?"

A stern pair of ebony orbs swept over the crowd, some men sinking into their chairs at their gaze. Upon reaching one face, though, Richard quickly remembered who was in his audience.

"...No offense to you, Tim."

"None taken, sir."

"Right. As I was saying, the king placed the safety of the kingdom upon our shoulders, and I for one will not prove his faith in us wrong! Who will fight beside me?"

To his dismay, the silence Richard commanded now only continued, accompanied by a score of now still bodies in their seats. If not for the torches lighting the halls, no one could observe the guard's signs of life.

This quiet was brief, however, as the mighty maiden burst from her seat. "I will _always_ stand beside you, Richard." Her words held both a comrade's loyalty and an emotion burning only for him, one she dared not fully express... yet.

The one-armed man stood and stepped forth with a smirk. "What is but one more battle?" Richard gave a smirk of his own; he knew he could count on his second-in-command, especially if he actually hungered for a fight. The leader found a strange paradox in him; how was there such a hunger in a man who probably had less skin than scars, even losing a limb? Perhaps he wished to complete some imagined collection of injuries? Yet no one truly wished to fight tonight's opponent; Richard could only hope for enough men to join him.

A cloaked figure glided (literally?) to the threesome. Once more, she brushed aside her pessimism. It was not needed here; this night called for action. "I am with you. No one will destroy my home as long as I take breath."

Then there was one, who the quartet saw reaching for a fruit tart, effort shown on his face; why did the blasted thing have to be so far? Getting the feeling he was being watched, he paused his endeavor and looked about, only to see the entire room laid its eyes on him.

"What?"

"Well?" The largest of the four asked expectantly.

"Well, of course I'm with you!" He almost felt offended. "...I simply wanted to wait for the others to talk first." He got up from his seat and made his way to the group—snatching the fruit tart on the way, of course.

He had his most trusted friends beside him, but still... "Will no more stand up and protect his land?"

Nothing, then: "I'll stand with you." A red-capped man renowned for his skills in archery stepped over, his quiver ever-present on his shoulder.

"As will I." A recent recruit sharing the same dark complexion as Victor joined them, the shine of the twin daggers on her hips somehow matching the gleam in her eye.

"We will too!" Identical twins spoke in unison. The two often spoke in a language only they knew, but their uniquely swift and tandem style of fighting was a menace to evil on the field.

More and more grew inspired.

"I... I'll do it!"

"Eh, who lives forever?"

"I'd follow Starfire to the world's end and back!" Said warrior blushed at the attention.

Soon all the seats grew bare, the score of men and women emboldened. Faces ranged from terse lips of gravity to glowing smiles of confidence. Robin matched them with his own small grin, proud of his partners.

"Yes! Together we can weather anything that one-eyed beast will throw at us!"

A cheer answered back.

"Slayer or no, his warpath will halt tonight!"

The second yell rang out.

"We will not run, we will not hide; we will fight! For we are **titans** on the battlefield, and WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE!"

The last cry of courage came with fists raised. These "titans" rushed from the hall, grasping their weapons that each thirsted for the blood of evil. They raced to the kingdom's south with armor on their shoulders and fire in their hearts.

They faced the threat at the gates to their home. Dozens of disciples dressed in dark armor and dull iron and bronze masks hung behind, a few brandishing his flag: no more than an S seemingly carved into the paper. They outnumbered the guard by at least five to one, but that was not the true danger.

No, what faced the score of warriors was a truly gruesome chimera. A rock golem appeared to be its basis, but some rancid ooze pushed forth between the cracks, smothering the skeleton. Where the slime did not cover, lightning infrequently arced from point to point. Spotting its prey, its multitude cry pierced the evening air once again; tormented souls begged for release from their horrible mortal bonds. Such an amalgam could only be the Slayer's handiwork; he was not simply a master in combat, but displayed magical prowess as well.

The man himself posed at the creature's side. His unassuming armor, almost completely black save for iron boots and gauntlets, hid itself under a tattered cloak that had seen a hundred battles. As always, the face was obscured. The only visible part of his visage was an eye blacker than the night about him and colder than Princess Kole's frosted kingdom. This freezing stare broke through the metal guarding men's flesh and tore into their hearts, causing a rare few of the newest guard to lose grip on their weapons.

Those few were nothing to the Slayer. Who really interested him was the boy, the only one in years to truly challenge him. Would he defeat him someday? It was an amusing thought, but he certainly had a long journey ahead. Their first battle specifically was the villain's win, and he spared his junior opponent purely out of this interest. At the end, he left Richard with a deep cut on his chest, which spilled his blood about and reminded the villain of a familiar red-breasted bird. It was this reason he gave Richard a certain term of endearment...

"Hello, little robin."

"Slade." The young leader scowled, hand already gripping the hilt of his blade.

The older warrior gave no reaction to his junior's gesture, only words. "Why so short with me, after all we've been through together... little robin?" He knew the boy hated that name, judging by how his hand on the hilt tightened. "Have not my visits provided such excitement to your life? A life I decided to spare not long ago?" One could swear a smirk hid under his mask.

"I owe you _nothing_, demon!" With a pull, Richard's sword bared itself to the world. Made of a metal fallen from the heavens itself, the obsidian-shaded blade reflected an almost mystical blue gleam in the moonlight—Nightwing readied to bite into flesh. "This life you spared shall take yours in turn!"

"My minions and I shall test that promise." The lumbering chimera's roar seemed to agree. With a mere nod from its master, it charged, followed by an army of the wicked.

It was time to fight. With a cry from both sides, the eternal clash of good and evil continued. Screams of pain and clangs of metal mixed with feral bellows and incantations. Lightning and magic crossed the battlefield.

And still, one young man's words prevailed over the din. Would it be his final command? The future would tell the outcome, cementing his words in legend:

"Remember what we fight for, and who we are!

"Heroes!

"Titans!

"GO!"

**END...?**

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><p><strong>Hey, guys, I'm back! While I kinda hit a brick wall with "You Idiot 2" (the working title for my first story's sequel), I was inspired by DC Comics' many comic book retcons and reboots, such as the one that happened to DC in 2011.<strong>

**Just when I had gotten used to the ideas of Damian Wayne as Robin, and Wonder Woman with pants... Oh well.**

**Anyway, I also remembered the different Crises of DC Comics and thought, what of the universes that supposedly died, or are still hidden somewhere? The comics tend to show off adult heroes, but what about the Titans? After a couple scenarios came to mind (even the obligatory gender-flip), this was the result.**

**Let me know how you feel by clicking that review button. And remember...**

**Even if you didn't do it here, in an alternate universe, you DID write a review.**

**Your mind blown yet?**


	2. Universe 2

Author's Note: _Thought __or __Emphasis_; **Flashback**; _**Thought **__**or **__**Emphasis **__**in **__**Flashback**_

I don't own _Teen __Titans_. If I did, surely there'd be more time travel or dimension-hopping going on in the show. Maybe we'd see a place like this. Or maybe—just maybe—there'd be a world where you read and review.

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><p><strong>Teen Titans: Another Time and Place<strong>

Universe 2

Ricky hated crime.

Crime was chaotic. Too much and too uncontrolled, spreading over his home like a cancer. From the rich on the shore to the poor downtown, no one was safe. There were maybe a dozen gangs with a dozen goals... none of them good, as far as he knew.

Crime ruined lives. It took his family away from him, all because they wouldn't fold into that protection racket. Sure, there was the Commish, but Bruce couldn't really be there for him with the job. It didn't help that most of the police were in _his_ pocket. They never did catch who pulled the trigger, either, but everyone knew who told the chump to do it.

Yes, _him_. He and others like him destroyed this place. Ricky didn't know when it happened, but it had to have been before his time. How else could scum like _him_ get so strong, so influential?

At least two thirds of the gangs in Jump City were giving a cut to him. There was Chang and his little remnants from the Triad, the Freak and his Controllers—hell, even the Brotherhood deferred to him. Well, no one was sure about the last one, since people always said the leader was a planner. There was a reason they called him the Brain, especially since the Frenchman who followed him like a puppy did most of the dirty work. Rumor said those who crossed the Brain looked like they got mauled by an ape by the end of the week…

But back to _him_.

_His_ name was Terrence Trigonius: a big guy—he definitely worked out—messy gray hair spilling down even from his ponytail. Judging from his skin tone, Ricky figured he must have been Italian or from that area of the world. When he smiled in the paper or on TV, it was always in the lips, never the whole face. Ricky remembered asking Bruce why he felt so weird, even afraid, looking at his picture.

Bruce just said, "It's because it isn't real, Richard."

Yep, he was in the papers or the news for one thing or another. He was a big man in the community, at least upstate. A philanthropist or something. One time he sent all kinds of money to the city to build housing projects on the south side. It was adorable. He was a "silver-haired angel," the rich guys at one banquet called him.

But it was just part of that devil's plan. He'd just send his boys to take that area too once more of the poor, weak, and scared funneled in. Protection rackets, drug dealing, hell, even prostitution...

Nothing was too low for the Terror to have his giant hands in.

And he had help with his twisted little takeover. Besides the gangs, there was his number one.

Slade.

At least, that's what Trigonius called him. The public story said Slade was a man he befriended in his travels around the globe. The so-called angel saved his life after he got wounded in some protest in Tibet, but no one could save his right eye, so he ended up with an eye patch. Slade still felt he owed the big guy, so there he was, at all of the fancy functions. Ricky and Bruce went to one of those fundraising balls, and the teen swore the cyclops was staring at him like a cat eying a mouse for dinner.

Slade was also his bodyguard at all the dark deals, wearing that weird suit of his. Black on one side, orange on the other. He even had a mask over his wrinkly face, boasting his one eye like he didn't really need it. Even though he had that masked freak on him like a shadow, though, Ricky just felt, no, _knew,_ that the Terror could handle himself.

That cyclops would be one of the biggest obstacles for the movement Ricky was building. Maybe Commissioner Wayne couldn't do anything, but no one really knew what his adopted son did after school. Maybe he could actually thank the city for this, since its lawlessness meant that he and plenty of others could go off the grid if they had to.

Case and point: Kori Anders. Her parents came from the other side of the world, just like Trigonius, but the Anderses (changing their last names from And'r) got out of the little-known country of Tamaran and made better lives for the new family, young daughter in the back seat. Their efforts paid off, too, with Wildfire Eyewear taking off like a rocket—Ricky remembered the place was where he got his favorite night-black sunglasses.

No one knew that in order to get a good enough start in the business world, her dad got into some deals with Trigonius, and he eventually sent some of his boys to collect. Her father was still a little smart, though; he had a stash that no one but him knew about. When the doors started pounding, her mom and dad gave her a briefcase of hard bills and told her to run.

She hadn't seen them since.

He didn't know how why fate led him to Kori that night, but something told Ricky to take that left on Morrison Street. He happened upon her when a couple of idiots tried to get too close for comfort. He didn't remember what gang they were from, but it didn't matter. He was going to break their heads in… but then she pulled off some moves of her own, almost like it was instinct. (Too bad she still dropped her groceries.) When one pulled a gun, though, Ricky knew it was time to stop the show. He swooped in, put Thing 1 and Thing 2 down for the count, and got the scared girl cleaned up.

Ever since then, she stuck to Ricky like glue. Maybe it was that both knew what it was like to lose parents, or maybe it was seeing each other fight, but they bonded. She told him an old man named Galfore, a close family friend from their days back overseas, took her in. She was grateful for him, thanked…er, whatever god she said that she managed to find him, but of all things, Kori felt sorry for everybody else out there who didn't receive such blessings.

Even now, she was looking up at the moon praying to... Zal, or Kal, or something to watch over the people of the city, and her friends. She liked to wear purple, Ricky soon found out, and her red hair seemed to be her pride and joy since she brushed it so much. It fell like a waterfall, always standing out in the moonlight...

But he was getting distracted again.

So he thought about others, like BB. No one really knew why people called him that, but it probably went back to his messed-up past. He was on the streets since he was a baby, until a family took him in—a family of thieves. Steve, Rita, Larry, and Cliff did what they could for him, but each one had their issues...

...and it didn't help that the Brotherhood felt the group was cutting in on its cash flow. The two groups had bad history for years, and the Brain finally caught up with them, planting a fake fencing job and ambushing them. Steve was the only one to get home and tell BB to go... before he died in the living room from his wounds.

Good for BB, then, that he picked up a few things with the family before he left:

The first was how to pick pockets, something he appreciated when he wanted to get a bite to eat.

The second was how to keep a sense of humor, for the nights when he couldn't get one.

The last, and most important, was how to improvise. With the right space and weapon, he could slip past anyone he had the misfortune to bump into. And with the right tools (usually in a backpack he carried everywhere), he could make up all kinds of disguises and stories on the spot. Staying in a hotel room as an old woman for two weeks was quite an accomplishment for him... yet, he just couldn't get himself to leave the city for long.

Kori managed to find him trying to beg Galfore for a place to stay, saying he was a new guy to the city who got mugged and lost. What he didn't know is that he didn't have to con his way in—the old man and young lady easily gave him a room in their small residence. He didn't know how, but their kindness made him open up about his life a bit. Not everything, no, but he spoke the straight truth for once.

When Ricky heard through Kori about BB's skills, he made the proposition to join him. He wasn't too sure—until he heard that Ricky was going after the Terror. He was in, muttering something about "paying that bastard back for Terra"...

He still kept up that humor, even now, talking about one of his times on the road with a chuckle to some guys in the back, Roy and Garth, Ricky figured. He often got laughs out of Vic, who could probably use a joke every now and then, considering the situation he was always in.

He lost an arm and a leg when crime came knocking—as in, he _literally_ lost them. It started when he ran into these racist thugs when he moved to the city. He took their crap for years, even trying to hide it from his parents. But he eventually had enough—the guys didn't count on him having muscle under the suits he wore to school, and he took out all four of them with his fists.

They didn't like that. They bombed his house, and one side of his body got crushed under some debris before the firemen pulled him out... His mom didn't make it out at all.

Besides his brawn from back then, though, he had brains. With plans from some of his inventor dad's prototypes plus his own genius, he reworked the prosthetic parts he had so he could move almost as well as he used to... other than the dull pain every few hours.

Vic already knew Ricky vaguely from school, but it wasn't until after the accident they started to really talk. The loner was interested in his tech skills, making Vic one of the few people he bothered to associate with. And he seemed really excited when he showed how well he could hack a computer... well, as excited as the guy was willing to show.

Ricky still remembered the look on Vic's face when he asked him to join his movement. He expected the first response to be "Are you crazy?"—and it was, but he knew with a few more words, Vic would come around.

He did, which is why, when Ricky went to the other room, the tech-head was right there in that chair looking at another map and security system—or he would be, if BB wasn't looking over his shoulder the whole time.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Vic spun the chair around, almost knocking BB's head off with an outstretched hand. "You ask me that every damn time! And every time I finish explaining, you get that stupid empty look on your face..." BB was still stunned from the bruise on his cheek. "Yeah, that one."

"C'mon, dude. What's the problem? I'm just looking."

"Last time you were 'just looking' with a soda in your hand! You were gonna ruin everything!"

Ricky saw it was going to escalate and got off the wall, but almost forgot who else was here. A girl grabbed BB's collar, dragged him off and forced him onto the couch. "You, sit down." To Vic, "You, calm down. And both of you, apologize." Ricky closed his eyes and held in a laugh at the two muttering "Sorry" to each other, before he opened them and she was gone.

Raven always seemed to appear and disappear like that. She had this weirdness about her since the earliest days, when the movement was breaking up little crimes, like car robberies and muggings, but wanted to start getting bigger, to put a bigger middle finger in Terry's face. On one night when no one had a strong idea, she was there, just _there_, in front of Kori's house, with a cold look on her face and a book in her hand. She had details, from warehouse locations to timetables, even a couple codes. They hadn't used most of it yet, but they would.

But she never said how she found the stuff, or how she tracked the group down to this house. And she wasn't like Kori, and she was way worse than BB—she kept almost everything about herself a secret. All she said was her name, if that was even her real one. All that mystery scared Vic, almost as much on her appearance: kinda cute, but pale as a ghost, with that duster she never, _never_ took off in front of them.

BB gave her a chance—even though Ricky figured he was just a sucker when it came to girls. Ricky took a long hard thought about it, and saw her info as a chance to take on something serious, and if Ricky was in, so was Kori. Outvoted 3 to 1, Vic gave in too.

So when a warehouse full of AKs went up in fire and smoke, Raven proved herself. She was creepy sometimes—and she was quiet all of the time—but she was in.

And damn, was she stealthy. She took out three guards like a ghost a couple weeks back, and with BB working with her on infiltration... hell, they could probably lift a car on a sunny afternoon if they tried.

Ricky knew she was hiding something, but for now, she was pretty useful.

"Got it." Vic pulled up a map on his screen. "We found Gizmo's chop shop, on DiDio Street, just like the book said."

The leader nodded back, before he glanced into the other room. _Thanks again, Raven._

"...you're welcome." Ricky suppressed the urge to leap from the girl right next to him. _What the hell?_ _She reads minds too?_

He shook it off and got focused. He never forgot to pull his dark-red hood over his head before a run. The few people on the street who saw him called him the "Red Hood" because of it, or "Red X" for the symbol on the back of his jacket as he walked off. (Red on the sleeves and hood, black on the back and torso, he found the two-toned thing on the street with that jagged X cut into it.) He didn't care about the name, as long as the Terror still didn't know who he was—at least, he didn't seem to know, since a gang hadn't robbed Ricky's home yet. Still, better safe than sorry. The Commish didn't need to get hurt because he got sloppy.

"Even if we can't save the cars, we can still send a message." He spoke just loudly enough to get everybody's attention; Galfore let them do their thing in the basement, and he slept like a log, so it wasn't bothering him. "They can't mess with what's ours."

"We take 'em down, or we take 'em out." Vic jumped in. "Let the police sort out the rest."

"And we take a little of the cut." BB loved the money almost as much as causing trouble for Terry. And what they stockpiled helped them along. Not everybody was working, and you had to pay contacts with _something _besides a promise things would get better.

They weren't perfect.

"So what's with his glasses? He does know it's nighttime, doesn't he?"

"Shut up, Wally!" Ricky heard a slapping sound. The new guy could move like a bullet, but his head...

"Ow! What the hell, Jinx?" Well, that's what she was here for.

No, they weren't perfect, not by a longshot. The group was small, and rough, and young, barely a year and a half old. But it was a hell of a lot better than standing by and doing nothing.

At the very least, it was a start.

He knew they'd someday be ready to kick that false god off the top of the hill, like Cronus off Olympus, and all the slime would go down with him. It's why Ricky named the group what it was.

"You know what to do." Judging by the sound of guns cocked, they knew. "Alright."

_Yeah... they'll be ready._

"TITANS! LET'S MOVE!"

**END... or JUST THE BEGINNING...**

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><p><strong>So, so sorry about the wait, my Titanic readers. College life (which is now over—magna cum laude!) and small bouts of writer's block during the first half of the year pushed this to the back burner. Add that to the fact I'm also writing up THREE more ideas, not just this one, and the wait was destined. First is the third and probably final addition to "Another Time and Place"; second is the sequel to "You Idiot" (it's dipped in and out of development hell); and third is a fanfiction for a slice-of-life anime known as <em>K-ON!<em> called "Howl!".**

**Yes, this one's a vigilante-verse. No capes and tights, just crime and fights. You can probably tell by now, but I really like backstories. I chose to keep it light, though, because it all is supposed to be from one guy's POV. You'd be surprised how hard it is to write about something lightly realistic and keep it original. Personally, I think I've done a lot better with the next chapter which will come someday soon.**

**Seriously! It's coming _this_ year this time!**


	3. Universe 3

Author's Note: _Thought __or __Emphasis_; **Flashback**; _**Thought **__**or **__**Emphasis **__**in **__**Flashback**_

I don't own _Teen Titans_. But maybe, in another timeline, I worked in it? Voicing a hero or villain on there would have been sweet, I think...

Read and review.

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><p><strong>Teen Titans: Another Time and Place<strong>

Universe 3

Titans Tower.

A building in the shape of a T would seem simple, maybe foolish. Even after all this time, the older generations still questioned the design. A popular query:

"Just how do those end rooms on the T stay attached, anyway?"

Despite the criticism, and more, it endured. For almost twenty years, the five-story-tall metal letter was a beacon of peace for Jump City. Villains both veteran and in-training, demons, dimension-hoppers, even a plague of mutant moths—all of them failed to permanently topple the Tower.

As for the answer to the T... well, that was Cyborg's secret.

The mechanical man himself, currently in the Tower's multi-story garage, had gone through some changes over the years. After another electronic mishap, Cyborg found himself on an alien planet ravaged by war, at first unwillingly facing a government that oppressed its people, sending them to mine a gem to boost the emperor's psychic powers. The rebels were led by a man known as Jarras, who sent out a interplanetary signal for help that, coincidentally combined with Cyborg's tinkering, transported the titanium Titan to the planet. Fortunately, that same combination of devices allowed for the metal man to get in contact with the team, assuring them that, despite the always-cautious Robin's misgivings, he would be okay for the moment.

Eleven months and a grand coup d'état later, Jarras became the leader of a new government. The president offered his comrade a place in the republic, but after everything, despite the friends he made, the half-metal hero just wanted to go home.

Even so, Cyborg was still rewarded for his trouble. Jarras saw his skills in technology and his strength in battle—as well as their use for good. All three things were what the president respected most. With the greater minds of the new government also knowledgeable in science beyond Earth's medical advancements, the Earthling received a new body that gave him the ability to shift his form to suit his needs, be they for battle or stealth.

When he returned to Earth, he returned as the 22-year-old Victor Stone, able to become Cyborg at will.

Yet he found himself accustomed to his "old" face. So many memories had been made with his metal hand shaking the hand of a new friend, so many photographs taken with a half-human visage smiling in the frames. So, more often than brown, blue-and-silver tended to meet him in the mirror, and Cyborg, not Stone, often walked the streets of his hometown. Whatever guise he drew, his friends and family grew to call him by that special name...

"I'm back, Vic."

He decided to take a break from his hover car engine. The T-Car was blasted apart... _again_, this time by a villain named Rave, a metahuman with the power of plasma manipulation, ranging from concussive rounds and beams to explosive flashes. He liked to make fireworks and wreak havoc in the same afternoon. Cyborg thought of him as a successor to old Dr. Light, who finally retired after the third fateful encounter with Raven.

At first glance, one could say that time barely touched her. Maturity gave the woman a bit more height and curves, of course, and her hair now fell to her mid-back under the hood (she finally decided to experiment with the length), but her cloak and clothing were the same indigo and black hues as always.

Raven's time on Earth and the bonds she made, though, changed her within. In her teen years, the half-demoness sometimes scared away young children from her meditation in the park with a foreboding aura (_usually_ an accident). Now in her early thirties, the experienced heroine reserved that atmosphere for evildoers, and some of those children, matured as well, asked to meditate with her.

Speaking of children...

"Hey, Rae. How were your kids?" The mechanical man smirked at the old in-joke among the Titans.

"They're fine." With a chuckle, she knew he was talking about Timmy, Melvin, and Teether, who she watched over for a small time, protecting them from the Brotherhood of Evil years ago.

The super-powered trio had grown up well since their days in the monastery. Now called Tantrum, Mistress Mind, and Bullet respectively, the youngest Titans of Raven's generation now taught a new generation themselves with some help from the Justice League.

Melvin realized that Bobby, her sometimes-visible giant teddy bear, was a manifestation of her telekinetic powers, and figured out how to use that to her advantage, changing him into different forms as needed. As a teacher for psychically-powered children, Mistress Mind taught them how to channel their own powers through objects, such as pendants, toys, and even their own hands, until they could harness them on their own. Meanwhile, Tantrum's expertise was in using emotions to work with your ability instead of against it, a skill he appreciated when he not only got control over his sonic screams, but later manifested super-strength. Lastly, Bullet focused on using the environment as a weapon—not too difficult a feat when your teeth can tear through almost anything and make it a deadly projectile.

Raven checked up on them from time to time, as she did this morning. "Bullet had a bit of a mishap, though. A student made him laugh at lunch, and he started to hiccup..." She sighed. "He turned into a one-man food fight. It's a good thing some of the students can fly, or we'd never have gotten the hall clean." Her lips upturned to a smirk. "So how is _yours_?"

"Real funny, Rae." She had a running gag for him as well, but he did not take it so lightly. "You've been riding that train for years. He's Mal's kid, not mine."

Raven watched as his soldering tool receded back into his index finger. "I'm not so sure, not with how Bumblebee keeps leaving him here more often."

"I'm his _god_father. And me and Bee have been friends for years. Of course we're gonna see-"

"And don't think I can't sense something between you two whenever she passes him over to you." An eyebrow raised. "Or did you forget I can do that?"

His old argument rose again. "Why would I even _try_ that? You know she's holding out for-"

"Herald's been gone for _three years,_ Victor." The portal-jumper's weapon of choice was damaged in a battle, and he warped away before the energies of the mystical trumpet destroyed everything for miles. Whether he was lost in another dimension or simply disintegrated in the explosion... no one was certain. "Ever since then, even though she lives a whole city away with four other teammates, she's only come to _you_ about her problems." Cyborg gave off an indignant huff. "Just think about it."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her words away, even though the very idea of Bumblebee and himself together lurked in the back of his mind far before Herald ever joined Titans East.

Now was not time for this, however; he had someone to check up on. "Anyway, he should be in the living room with-"

"Awfully quiet, isn't it?"

While he grew a little annoyed at her interrupting him all this time, the metal man had to agree. "Yeah... like the calm before the-"

"YOU _CHLORBAG_!"

Another interruption brought a sigh. "And there's the storm."

The short walk to the room came with an ominous soundtrack of thumps, laughter, exasperated groans, and an alien language, not necessarily in that order. Soon the familiar T-door met the heroes, opening with a _woosh_ to show the living room.

On a quiet day, the nearly wall-size television's flat screen would gleam in the light as it displayed both normal and 3D programming; 3D had not gone out of style like some had expected. The newest game console, GameStation 6, a wireless device the size of a toaster, its controllers equally but optionally wireless, would have neither a spot on nor a crack in its shell, thanks to the carbon fibers added in manufacturing. (Games came digitally now; after the fourth generation of the Maroni GameStation and its MacroSoft counterpart, the X-Cube, companies grew tired of the disc and found it easier to sell purely downloadable content.) The couch, still long enough after all these years to accommodate guests and possible additions to the team, would have no stains or tears in the fabric. The adjacent kitchen would be spotless, thanks to the hours of effort the Titans all took to keep dishes out of the sink for long. It wasn't until they all neared their twenties, in fact, that the quintet finally agreed on a cleaning schedule.

Today was _not_ a quiet day.

Today, a remote was wedged into the TV screen, having made a crack in the screen's right corner (Cyborg prayed he could fix that or buy a new one soon; the Jump City Jaguars were playing tomorrow night). A dent not unlike a hand print somehow presented itself in the GameStation, and the controllers were missing from their usual spot. The couch was in pieces about the room—but fortunately, it had that function to separate and join already.

Those renovations to the room, however, were nothing compared to one.

The kitchen counter was covered in what appeared to be the ingredients of a ham, Swiss cheese, ham, roast beef, ham, chicken, ham, cheddar, and ham sandwich... and only one man could even stand to eat that dangerous delicacy.

Incensed, said man demanded the presence of the culprits to the murder. The culprits, in fact, made the centerpiece of the living room disaster, a furious purple blur and a jeering green one zipping about in a dangerous chase. These streaks' names:

"MARTIN, MAR'I, DOWN HERE, NOW!"

The green blur rushed behind Cyborg to escape the pursuer's wrath, then peeked over the Titan's shoulder. "Uncle Vic, she's crazy!"

"I'll show you crazy, you frecking-_mmph_!" The other speeding shape was captured by a hand of black energy, including a finger over the mouth.

"What is going on here?"

Sure that the hunt for his hide ended for now, Martin came from behind his godfather. The twelve-year-old dark-skinned boy wore a sleeveless dark-green shirt, with black horizontal stripes across the torso to make a pattern. A look closer would show circuits running through the material—more than mere fabric. His pants, of the same material, also shared the same green, but a black vertical stripe trailed down the outside of each leg. His tinted glasses continued the color scheme, as did his boots, green with metallic black soles. His hair was cut into a bald fade.

Martin also wore electronic wrist bands, used to help regulate his ability to release blasts of bio-electricity. While keeping the wit and looks of his father, he discovered he inherited similar powers to his mother at the age of ten (after a Zeta Beam accident, her supersuit encoded its powers onto her DNA). While flying came fairly easily, he could not shrink (at least not yet), and when he did not wear gloves, his fingers would often zap anything they touched. Cyborg and S.T.A.R. Labs worked together to create his accessories, which were unlocked just this year for battle capability. Tazer-like "stingers" would unfold from the bands and fire energy bolts of varying force, from a mere joy-buzzer jolt (he liked to prank his friends in class with it), to immobilizing shock (he wanted to try it in a spar, but no one wished to test him), to destructive neon-bright lightning (only used on the training dummies fairly recently).

Indeed, his journey was still just beginning, but in time, Martin Beecher-Duncan would follow his mother's insect-sized footsteps as Hornet.

Mar'i also inherited much from her parents, Starfire and Richard Grayson. Her clothes were based on Tamaranean royal clothing, an appropriately royal-purple unitard with baggy sleeves. The sleeves tapered at the wrist due to small bracelets made of a refined ore from the same world; her boots matched in color and metal, the latter tapering the shoes at her shins. Starfire also passed down her luminescent green eyes and skin tone with a hint of orange to the fourteen-year-old, but straight black hair, her father's gift, spilled down her back. Unfortunately, she inherited her father's temper as well, which, combined with her alien strength, sometimes led to such catastrophes as the living room's current state.

Lastly, her names tied to those of her family. Her first name derived from her paternal grandmother Mary, while her heroic handle came from a fusion of her parents' names: Nightstar.

"Mari's just mad 'cuz I know about her little crush on Damian."

Damian was the child of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, and the new Robin. He forged his own path at a young age, helped by the lack of his grandfather's dangerous influence on the League of Assassins. After Ra's al Ghul's and Batman's final clash in the Near-Apocalypse of 2009, the then-pregnant Talia changed her ways, turning her League into a force for good instead of genocide. The "Son of the Bat", as he was called by the League, honed his skills and learned his heritage through his mother and, with her blessing, set off to find his father. He wanted to earn the surname Wayne, but also another name...

For the latter, he took a stint in Titans Tower to meet the rest of the Bat-Family. He made an indelible mark on Mar'i's memory, astounding her with his confidence and skills—as well as his penchant for capes and cloaks, which seemed to be a family trait at this point. It was at this time Richard, after a test of his own, officially passed down the title of Robin to him. He promised to work with them again, something the girl hoped would happen soon.

"It's not a crush! It's simply admiration." Nightstar's mood cooled for only a second upon recalling the older teen she respected, before angry emeralds glowed. "And don't try to change the subject! You looked in my diary, you little twip!"

Hornet merely shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, it's not my fault you keep leaving it everywhere and unlocked." Despite the technology of the times, Nightstar's diary was made the old way, with paper and a key lock. It came out of seeing her mother's old diaries from her home planet and her time on Earth, something the loving Starfire was happy to share with her.

"I like to write, okay!?" Mar'i figured a glare would make up for her forgetfulness. "At least I have thoughts to put somewhere, instead of brainlessly staring at Atlee when she came by." Terra's return to heroism surprised everyone in her former circle (Beast Boy the most, of course), but even more shocking was her taking a partner for a short period.

Atlee came from an underground world called Strata, where exposure to a unique mineral allowed her to become a geokinetic. When she came to the surface after learning of the Titans, she sought out her fellow earth mover, whose powers had reemerged stronger by the day. Perhaps to atone for her past sins and reteach herself, the blonde fought beside the brunette. Eventually, though, both took their own paths on the earth they could shake with but a thought. The last Hornet and Nightstar heard, Atlee was teamed up with Power Woman in Manhattan, while Terra lived in a distant land called Markovia.

"What can I say? It's _admiration_." Martin mocked the half-alien with her own words, giving a smirk. "Plus, she's hot." Cyborg, while around 10 years Atlee's senior, agreed with the boy, but kept his head from nodding and instead flicked the boy in the back of his head. "Ow!"

Raven followed up. "It still does not give you the right to invade someone's privacy. Would you have liked Mar'i to go through your things once you left your room?"

Hornet's eyes momentarily widened behind his green glasses, knowing that she would never let him live down keeping a bean-bag bumblebee his mother gave him. "No, ma'am."

"And look at this mess!" The cloaked Titan gave a glance at the carnage (shaking off the sense of deja vu) before looking at the girl in her magical grip. "Even if Martin was in the wrong, do you think your father would be happy if he saw this right now?" She placed Nightstar back onto the ground, where the potential heiress to a throne a world away was reduced to a child looking at her shoes.

"No, Aunt Raven."

"Alright then. I'll bring what you need to clean this up. _Both_ of you." She caught the boy trying to slip away before Cyborg barred his path. She then heard a slight cracking sound, and looked up. "That includes the controllers stuck in the ceiling."

"Yes, Aunt Raven/Auntie Rae." The latter picked up the nickname from his "uncle."

The faces, shoulders, and moods of both preteens dropped at the task before them. As the two got to work, Cyborg had to comment. "Maybe I never said this before, but look at you, Raven! That motherly instinct's been kicking into overdrive." He remembered just a few weeks ago, when she almost rushed over to Mar'i falling off the roof during a volleyball game, before she realized her "niece" could fly. "Did you even have these kinds of problems where you came from? I mean, even when we were kids, you were still as a statue."

"Not really, but..." The empath admitted this to herself, even if a small part of her took it to boost her ego: "Having children around the house can change anyone, I suppose."

"Yeah, I guess so." A thought suddenly occurred. "You know, I'm surprised you haven't-"

He stopped both word and thought at Raven's deadly stare. He should have known about raising _that_ subject. Godchildren, yes, as they were right there in front of them; her young charges at the academy, sure, as they had a soft spot in her heart; but speaking of _those_ were something else. She may have opened up more over the years, but when it came to the "b-word," Raven certainly valued her privacy. It was partially because opening that line of discussion could then open up awkward discussions about her time with a certain someone, who would be coming home soon enough.

While not the person of Raven's interest, someone did indeed arrive with the door's familiar _woosh_, and Nightstar dropped her towel in joy.

"DADDY!"

The floating girl slammed herself into a man wearing a black bodysuit, a simple blue bird design, wings unfurled, across his chest. His dark hair was short, though not spiky; formerly his hair was as long as his daughter's, until he cut it just last week.

The former and first Robin took on a new persona right after Cyborg's return. Hearing what happened to Victor on a distant planet, constantly worrying if his own friend would even come back, spurred Robin to look back at what he had almost lost in his adventures, but more importantly, what he gained in life. He knew he had gained a wealth of skills, a legion of friends and comrades, and a very unique family—including who would soon become his significant other. Still, he felt one more change was needed, and remembering a certain story from Starfire, called his new self Nightwing.

"Hey, Mar'i. Sorry I'm late. The mission with Flash lasted a little longer than I thought." The winged wonder hugged his daughter, but his smile dropped upon looking at the room. "What happened in here?"

Martin piped in while picking the last of Cyborg's sandwich off the counter. "Your daughter's crazy, Uncle Nightwing." (For some reason, perhaps the hero's persistently chilly aura, the boy never called the man by his first name.)

He got a glowing-eyed girl's glare in return. "You started it!"

"Mar'i..." The leading Titan's face grew as stern as Raven's. "We've talked about your temper a thousand times, haven't we?"

"I know." She soon realized Raven was right about her father's reaction. "But Dad-"

"No buts. You're not only going to clean this, but I think the Bluebird could use a nice-"

"Just leave her be, Richard." A new voice interrupted the punishment. "She has enough to do as it is."

"Starfire, you know I told her she'd be punished next time."

"Come now. You are only shoving your chore upon her." She wrapped her arms around her husband from behind and spoke over his shoulder; they were at about equal height. "Besides, I always thought you _liked_ cleaning your bike?"

"Maybe..." He softly mumbled his real reason. "But that monster's smelly spit got all over it."

Mother and child shared a giggle at Nightwing's expense before they embraced. "Welcome back, Mom."

"It is good to be back, my little _bumgorf_."

The years were good to the Tamaranean Titan, bringing a surprise second "transformation" of sorts. Instead of the slim figure she had as a teenager, her body's curves now pressed against her clothing, drawing the eye of hero, villain, and civilian alike. Her red hair now naturally curled as well (she did not know why it did, but she liked it). All combined with her skin's orange hue gave her an exotic appearance that resulted in quite a few modeling job offers—offers which, despite Nightwing's objection, she accepted.

Her uniform also changed; while in the same color as years past, it now matched the armor once worn by Blackfire.

While on a mission in the east, Starfire discovered her sister hiding out on Earth once again, having run away from her former home with that "snot-spewing slimeball", as she called the prince to whom Starfire was once betrothed. With nowhere to go, she ended up on Sol's third planet living as a bodyguard to those who did not like or ask questions. When some enemies Blackfire once crossed came to get revenge, however, the kinder sibling could not resist offering her refuge at the Tower, much to the heroes' reluctance. They had good reason for it, of course; while she took up the offer, the alien outcast was staunchly against following in her "sister dear's" crime-fighting footsteps. Even so, the ex-con softened after spending time with her then four-year-old niece.

That bond was tested when Blackfire's hunters followed her to Jump City, stealing Mar'i away as a bargaining chip while the others were distracted in battles. The furious aunt and parents located her, but while freeing her child, Starfire was vulnerable to an attack from the sword-wielding leader. Blackfire jumped in the energy blade's path and fired a starbolt point blank, defeating the last hunter at the cost of her own life.

Since that night, Starfire wore a memorial to the woman who redeemed herself in the eyes of the Titans, her home planet, and her family.

"Heh, _bumgorf_." Hornet broke the touching moment. "That's funny to hear every time." He tested the word on his tongue, even though he had done it before. "_Bumgorf_... _bumgorf_."

Cyborg tried to get back on topic. "Quit the wordplay and get back to the mess you and the little hothead made."

"I know, I know..." The boy remembered another word he thought was hilarious. "...Sparky."

He thought he mumbled it quietly enough, but he did not count on his god-father's robotic ears. "What... did you call me?"

"Whoa! Take it easy, Uncle Vic!" To Bumblebee's legacy, the robotic eye's glare was set to kill, and he shrank (not literally) behind his new refuge, the kitchen counter. "M-m-mama said she used to call you that _all_ the time."

Cyborg's temper unleashed. "BEEEEEEEE!" Fist clenched and raised in vendetta, the metal man screamed to the heavens at a woman who he swore was laughing it up right now. Instead of cursing her name, though, he turned to the current offender. He saw Martin half-afraid, half-unable to stifle a laugh, and he lost his fire with a sigh. "You are just as messed up as your mother sometimes, you know that?"

"Heh heh... yep." The growing smile on his face only confirmed it further to Cyborg:

_He's getting more and more like you, Karen._

"Did somebody call my name?"

A parrot, green from beak to tail, flew through the open window. It circled a bit over the group of heroes/heroes-in-training before landing in front of the resident magician. In less than two seconds, the small bird changed shape into a man half a head taller than her. His hair was messy, his suit was dirty, and he had what appeared to be a claw mark on his left arm.

None of that stopped him from grabbing his still-clean wife and hugging her with all he could muster.

Her lungs were losing precious oxygen, but Raven managed to eke out a feeble "Hi, Gar."

As he released his grip with a meek grin, it was easy to see that the youngest Titan was no longer the shortest or smallest. Beast Boy's—or as he insisted, Beast Man's—once skinny limbs had been tempered by heroics into jade muscle, to him the perfect reason to show off his arms; he altered his black-and-purple uniform to have short sleeves. He also let his hair grow a bit and stopped wearing gloves, adding a slightly more feral look. Even with the changes, though, he still sported a green skin tone one could see for miles, his fang still poked out... "Hey, Raven!"

...and he still loved a good joke. "Hey, Sparky."

"RAAAH! YOU TOO!?"

"Heard it from Hornet before I left." He forced his words through a laugh at Cyborg's reaction, before looking into the kitchen. "What's goin' on, bug boy? Sounds like you made Cy short-circuit."

"I just said the name Mama used to call him, Uncle Gar. I don't know why he got so mad."

"Me neither, dude."The others took it in stride, the children especially, that he still called people by that word."Especially when we know he really likes her." His green eyes seemed to glint with mischief. "Isn't that right, Cy?"

The half-robot caught the second meaning. _Must have talked to Raven about that._ "Yeah, sure." _Better change the subject._ "So what happened at the high school, B-Man?"

"Some lady with these weird clawed gloves was making a mess. She said there were 'demons possessing the young generation' or something. I think she was talking about us super-powered folk." Nightwing subconsciously inched closer to his family. "I tried to talk her down, but nothin' doin." Noticing Raven's eyes on his arm, Beast Man reassured her and the team, "She got a scratch on me, but she's down. Dang it if I can't remember her name, though..."

"It doesn't matter right now." Nightwing leaked out a small smile. "What matters is that the team is back together."

"Yeah. So..." Once again, another noticed the room's state. "...what happened in here?"

The children felt eyes bearing on them, and Mar'i spoke.

"We know, we're cleaning."

Just as the duo would return to their duties, the crime alarm sounded. Red light washed over the room, flashing off and on, and the TV screen displayed its second function. A map in the upper right corner displayed the location of the disturbance with a dot, while the larger picture showed the criminal in action. While not the most formidable villain in the Titans' rogue gallery, he was quite familiar: Red from top to foot, a veritable walking tank, and a grizzled but pompous expression on his face...

"Is that... Adonis? Jeez. Looks like Father Time beat him with a stick." Jade eyes turned to Raven. "And shouldn't he be locked up for trying to attack you again?" The chauvinistic charlatan never forgave her for spurning him, nor the shape-shifter for his first defeat.

Rather than looking at the loved one, a violet glare turned cold at the ex-offender on screen. "I guess he got out for good behavior."

"So much for that." Cyborg's annoyance turned to mild interest. "Huh. Looks like he got shoulder cannons this time. Who's up for it?"

The winged wonder took charge. "If Adonis is in a new suit, then he's sure to have new surprises. Everyone should go, just in case."

"Sweet!" Hornet looked down to his hands, the tiniest of green bolts arcing between his fingers. "I finally get to _really_ try these out!" Nightstar agreed, eyes glowing bright green in excitement, and both began to race for the T-Car.

"Oh, no, you don't." The technological Titan intercepted them at the door. "I'm not letting you two get hurt out there." He looked at one in particular. "Especially, you, Martin. Your mother would flip!"

"Aww, c'mon, Uncle Vic! Mister Nightwing did say _everybody_, right?"

"And we won't get hurt if you guys are there!" The young half-alien popped in. "Besides, you taught us well!"

Nightwing tried to appeal to his daughter, a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Mar'i, you're too-"

"Too young? You said that a year ago!" Teenage rebellion had firmly set in, but fortunately, she had a mind sharpened by her father's teachings. "How old were you when _you_ started, Dad? Thirteen? Twelve? What about when you started the Titans?" He did not answer; he knew the answers too well to dispute. She calmed and gently pulled his hand away. "You have to let us try eventually."

The young joker grew serious. "We can do this if you give us a chance. We won't mess it up, we promise!"

Both begged in unison.

"Please?"

The parental figures needed to think fast: every second they stewed over the question was a second when Adonis harmed Jump City's citizens. Yet the worry for their charges and children seemed to combat the pleading eyes boring into their hearts...

...until a voice spoke up. "They should come along."

"Starfire?"

"Mar'i is right, Richard. We have trained them for years. It is only fair they get a test of their skills."

"I'm with Star on this one." Beast Man looked down at the kids. "I was barely half Martin's age when I figured out how my powers worked, and younger than him when I was in the Doom Patrol.

He continued. "Ya see that look in their eyes? It's the same we had when we started. They've wanted to be Titans since before they could even spell the word. If they're gonna be one of us, they're gonna need the experience."

"I agree." Raven added her piece. "I know from watching Melvin and the others: they'll never be able to make their own way if we don't give them a chance."

"Hmm..." Nightwing admitted, seeing his daughter as leader of the Titans one day did have a nice draw to it... "Alright."

"YES!" The children screamed in rejoice, their old squabble forgotten. Hornet spoke for the group: "We're finally in!"

Cyborg interrupted. "You're not quite Titans yet. You still need one more thing." The metal man pressed a button on his wrist-computer, causing a compartment to eject from the wall opposite the kitchen. On it were symbols of great importance, of teamwork, and of pride for Titans around the globe. While the form had changed a bit to be flatter and shot up a hologram instead of using a regular screen, the small devices still kept the classic white T in the center.

The children's brains attempted to start working again, starting with Hornet—"Are those..."

—and then Nightstar. "Our communicators?"

"They're all yours." A flesh-and-chrome countenance grinned. "Welcome to the team!"

Twin blurs swiped the T-Coms and rambled out thanks to the gift-giver. Over the cacophany, he managed to assure them, "Hey, it's all part of the Titan package."

"Uh, guys, not that I'm not loving this, but shouldn't we get a move on?" Beast Man pointed toward the exit. "That tin can's not gonna kick itself."

The leader agreed. "Right. There's no time to waste!"

"This is gonna be SO EPIC!" Mar'i and Martin practically jittered in anticipation as they started to talk about the special tricks they wanted to use.

Surpressing a laugh at their youth, Nightwing took a moment to truly see his team:

His wife, one half of the team's raw strength, with a fighter's fist and a lover's heart;

His second-in-command, the gearhead of the team, and the closest thing he had to an older brother;

His sister in all but name, the mistress of mystic arts, her calm exterior belying a warm love for her family and home;

The little brother of the group, the team's wild card, a source of fun as well as determination;

And the new generation, ready to prove itself, eager to face any troubles the future may bring.

And they all waited for him to say those two words.

Those two words he hoped would carry on, beyond his life, perhaps beyond even that of his child's, until the world no longer needed heroes.

Those two words he prayed every mission would go forward and span outward, to another time, another place, for criminals to fear and for legends in the making to proudly proclaim:

"TITANS! GO!"

**END**

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's that for this story, or at least, it should be for a while. Remember, the story is called "Another TIME and Place," so it's only fair I give a future setting for our favorite crimefighters. <strong>

**Truthfully, I've been wanting to write this setting for quite some time. Yes, I could have gone outward and explained where everyone was at this point, but I wanted to fit a pattern of focusing on the original five for the most part. Still, you'll see the some stuff about others in there, and if you look even harder, you can see I even used and tweaked ideas from the comics (those pre-2011 reboot, of course).**

**I honestly think this is one of my best-written pieces ever (it's certainly one of the longest), but what's more important is what you think. Give me a shout-out, tell me what went wrong or right for you. And check out my other stories. You never know, you might like love 'em!**

**UPDATE, 7/21/14: At least one of you fans asked for it, and after all this time, here it is: Universe 3 has a "sequel" of sorts that follows up on this timeline. But it's not here; instead, read the Teen Titans one-shot "The Titans of Tomorrow."**

**Until next time, my Titanic readers.**


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